Prelude and Fugue in A Major
by more-than-words
Summary: Elizabeth and Henry enjoy their own private Christmas party. Post-ep of sorts for 4.09, Minefield.


**A/N:** Some fluffy smut for Christmas, set the day after the end of 4.09. Title borrowed from Shostakovich op 87 no 7 (thanks dude). I hope you enjoy this story :)

* * *

She arrived home from work to the soft glimmer of Christmas lights and the sound of music.

Intrigued, Elizabeth left her briefcase by the front door and followed the sound to the piano that sat beneath the stairs – and to Henry, who sat at the piano watching her, but whose hands were still at his sides; not the source of the music.

"And here I was thinking you'd suddenly become a concert pianist," she quipped as she sauntered the rest of the way over to him, resting one hip against the wood and looking down at his face.

He smiled back. "Unfortunately not."

"Borrowing instead from the greats?"

"Shostakovich," he confirmed.

"Not the Seventh Floor Singers?"

Henry laughed. "I heard they were great at the party last night. I'm sorry I missed it."

Elizabeth nudged his ankle with the point of her shoe. "They were. And I told you. Don't worry about it. You had things to do." Important things, like dealing with the infiltration of the highest levels of the legislature by the Russians. And wasn't that a wonderfully cheery thought just in time for Christmas?

Brushing past that whirlpool of potential despair, Henry reached out to tug Elizabeth to stand directly in front of him, his hands lingering on her hips as he positioned her in front of the piano looking down at him. "But still," he said. "I'm sorry I wasn't there. I heard you were a hit."

The way he said it suggested that he had already heard some stories about the party. Elizabeth shifted her stance, feeling the slide of Henry's palms against her hips, his fingers flexing gently against muscle, his thumbs stroking the groove of her hipbones. Nice. Distracting. "It was a success, in the end," she said. She shrugged. "I got the bill I wanted."

"I heard. Although that's not what I meant."

Ah. That was what she had been afraid of. "Oh?" she enquired, her face an expression of faux innocence.

"I heard from Mike B that you've also managed to get some donors lined up. Despite, he said, your best efforts at avoidance."

She should have known Mike B would be involved in this somehow.

"And Stevie said that while she can't wait to attend your inauguration, she absolutely does not want to _plan_ your inauguration." Henry was smiling in amusement and – what was that? His face was hard to read.

Which just about tallied with her own feelings on the whole matter ever since Russell Jackson had first brought it up the other day when he had asked her to hold the holiday party; feelings she hadn't even wanted to have or consider in the first place. "That's not what the party was about." She tried to brush past the topic. Classic interview technique: if you don't like the question, challenge its premise. Change it. Maybe she had after all learned a few things about being a politician.

Henry squeezed her lightly. "No, but still. What do you think about this whole presidency thing?"

It was harder to evade a direct question but that didn't mean she couldn't try. "You're taking this seriously?" She still couldn't believe that _anyone_ was taking it seriously. She still couldn't believe that people were talking about it like it was a genuine option – Russell Jackson and Mike B and, somewhat to Elizabeth's surprise after her daughter's initial memorable reluctance over the Secretary of State job, Stevie.

She thought it might have been nice if they'd asked her about it _before_ they started to take it seriously.

"Yes," Henry said. "So what do you think?"

She shook her head. "I honestly don't know."

"Well, that's okay. You have time to think about it."

"Not as much time as you'd think. And what do you think about it?"

He regarded her for a moment and then reached up to slide one hand onto her neck, tugging her down to him. She bent at the waist, her knees hitting the piano bench that Henry was sitting on as he drew her into a soft, lingering kiss, his lips capturing hers as the music in the background fell silent at the end of a piece. When he pulled back, he smiled and dropped the volume of his voice. "I think it's not a decision for tonight."

Elizabeth matched her hushed tone to his. "Why, what's tonight?"

His hand slid from her neck to tangle in her hair as he stretched up to whisper in her ear: "Since I missed the last one… our Christmas party."

She smiled at the quiet heat in his voice and moved to straddle his lap, hitching up her skirt so that she could rest her knees either side of him on the bench before lowering herself down to rest against his thighs, her arms wrapping around his shoulders. "Oh?" she enquired. "Here?"

"Mmhmm."

"I take that to mean we're alone in the house?"

"All night," he confirmed.

"Well, in that case, professor," she said as she leaned in to place a row of kisses along his jaw, while in the background the music started to play again.

Henry chuckled and smoothed his hands down her thighs. "Don't you mean _maestro_?"

The laugh bubbled out of her. "With my musical abilities?" She reached one hand behind her to press a few keys on the piano, the notes sounding out a discord that made Henry cringe. "I think you'll find that's me."

"Babe, you're tone deaf."

"Yeah, but at least I know it. That has to count for something, right?"

Henry looked like he was trying to hold in a laugh. "Okay, prove it to me. Earn your title, maestro."

She hummed a mixture of satisfaction and contemplation as she rocked against Henry, feeling his body beneath hers, his chest firm but just yielding enough for her to sink into as she covered his mouth with hers in a heated kiss. She brought her hands up to frame his face, cupping his cheeks with just enough pressure to allow her to control the kiss – she knew a challenge when she heard one and she was determined to earn her title.

Beneath her, the muscles in Henry's legs tensed, as though preparatory to making an attempt to usurp her position, and so she slid her tongue against his at the same time as pressing her hips harder against him, and in response he groaned and tensed for a different reason. She could feel him starting to harden, and it gave her a thrill that never grew old.

"You know," she mumbled against his lips in between kisses, "I can't believe we've never made use of this piano before."

"Opportunity hasn't presented itself," he mumbled back, as he untucked her blouse from her skirt with one hand and then ran his fingertips over the small of her back, making her shiver.

"Such a shame." She drew back from his mouth to bring her hands in between them and started to unbutton her own blouse, smiling wickedly when, as expected, Henry's eyes automatically flicked to her cleavage. She ran her fingers along the edge of her bra, partly because the touch felt good but mostly because she liked the feeling she got when Henry looked at her like that. "Think of all the… _performances_ we've missed out on."

Henry chuckled and stretched up to press a kiss to the underside of her chin, his hands joining hers to rid her of her blouse. "I know, all those missed matinees. The mind-blowing concertos. The sensational harmonies."

Elizabeth pushed her blouse off her shoulders and started work on Henry's shirt. In the background, the music playing through the stereo swelled. "So what do we call this?"

Henry glanced towards the speakers as his shirt hit the floor, as though he thought she was asking him the name of the piece. "Prelude and Fugue in A Major?"

Her nails scratched lightly down her husband's chest and she watched him shiver at the sensation. Her hips ground down into his and she felt arousal start to pulse between her legs at the feel of him against her. "The premiere," she whispered before she caught his mouth with hers again.

She lost herself in him a little then, enjoying his warm skin against her hands and the solid thrum of his pulse when she rested one palm against the centre of his back to hold him closer to her while she kissed him thoroughly. Henry's hands stroked up her sides, fingers sliding to rest in the grooves between her ribs for a few moments before he moved to unhook her bra, expertly taking it off her and then tossing it onto the piano.

Henry's hands closed warmly around her breasts, cupping their weight in his palms before his thumbs started to stroke her nipples, slow but steady. Darts of pleasure licked through her and she arched her back, head automatically tipping back as she let out a moan at the sensations. She could just about feel the cool keys of the piano behind her as she shifted in Henry's grasp, and a little thrill ran through her at the reminder of their location. Then Henry lowered his head to press hot kisses against her throat, his tongue dancing against her skin, drawing a moan from her as she felt the arousal building deep inside her.

"There's my favourite music," he murmured, lips still ghosting over her skin.

Elizabeth was about to berate him for being corny but then he shifted his position on the narrow piano bench and his hips pressed into hers _just_ right and cut off her train of thought. She rocked her hips above him and she could tell that she was getting wet, and it wouldn't take much more before she was ready for Henry to sink inside her. She lifted Henry's head from where he had started to kiss his way along her collarbone and brought his lips to hers instead; there was nothing like his slow, drugging kisses to turn her on. It also encouraged him to wrap one arm securely around her back, which gave her back just enough brainpower to smooth her hands down his sides to his belt, where she made short work of undoing the buckle and then unzipping his suit pants. "Off," she said, dragging her mouth from his for a second to give him the instruction.

His hands dropped to follow her command, pushing at his waistband before giving up momentarily, hampered by his position. He wrapped both arms around Elizabeth and lifted her up at the same time as standing from the bench. He deposited her on the keys of the piano, and while she may not have been all that musical, Elizabeth was pretty sure this was _not_ how the instrument was originally intended to be played.

A loud, clashing chord sounded out as her weight came to rest on the keys, and she couldn't stop the laugh that erupted at the sound combined with the sight of Henry hurriedly and determinedly shoving his pants and boxers down to the floor. He had appeared not to hear the piano in his determination and so Elizabeth pressed the heel of her hand down onto the keys at her left, a high jarring smattering of notes echoing around the space and drowning out the music that continued to play in the background.

It got Henry's attention and he looked up, his laughter joining hers when he noticed the mirth in her eyes. "Maestro." He kicked his clothes away and closed the gap between them, pressing her knees apart with his hands so that he could step between her legs. His fingers stroked up the inside of her thighs as he caught her gaze and gave her a smouldering look before he dropped his gaze to scan her torso. "Such a beautiful composition."

She smiled. "I'm glad you think so."

Beneath her skirt, his fingers had found her underwear, and he lightly traced a nail against the damp fabric. "I love that song," he said in response to the breathy groan that escaped her at his touch.

Elizabeth brought her right hand down onto the piano keys responsible for notes in the lower register, making Henry jump. She grinned at him, tongue poking out from between her teeth. "How about that song?"

"Needs work, I think." He rested his hand next to hers and a low rumble of dissonance sounded from the piano.

She laughed. "Hmm, yeah. But also we shouldn't break the piano. It was expensive."

"Fair point." He steadied her with his hands at her hips while she hopped off the piano with a final smattering of accidental chords and then reached around her to close the lid while she rid herself of her skirt and underwear. His eyes grew dark when he looked back at her. "There's just something about this that is so hot," he said, one hand resting against the small of her back while the other ran up her spine so he could cup the back of her neck. He leaned in and down to whisper in her ear. "And you're so damn beautiful."

That was all she needed. Elizabeth stretched up to kiss her husband again, hands moving between them to grasp his erection, fingers stroking his heated skin. She could feel his arousal humming through him, could feel it leaching out of him and into her as he touched her. She kept the kiss gentle this time, wanting him to feel how much she loved him. "So are you," she said when she pulled away.

Then she held his gaze as she directed him to step back and sit on the narrow bench, waiting until he was settled before climbing up to straddle his lap, resting on her knees and looking down at him. Around them, the Christmas lights they had put up shimmered a hazy glow. As Elizabeth's focus narrowed to nothing but Henry in front of her, the lights gave the illusion of a warm cocoon surrounding them, and she let her mind linger on that impression as she held her husband's gaze and lowered herself down onto him.

He let out a long, slow breath as she took him inside her, and she wanted to tell him that the sound was _her_ favourite music, but the words wouldn't come. Her muscles stretched around him and the warm glow of pleasure was already making her feel somewhat boneless. She gave them both a moment before she started to move, aided by Henry as he supported her with an arm around her back, his forearm flexing against her as he helped to lift her weight and his hips pressing up into hers each time she slid back down.

They established a relaxed, smooth rhythm, their position and the narrow seat not allowing for anything faster – but that was more than okay with Elizabeth. She could feel pleasure gathering low in her belly, building slowly, and as much as she wanted her release she was enjoying the languid movements and the sensual brush of Henry's chest against hers with every move she made. And she could tell from his face that he was enjoying it, too. His pupils were blown wide and his mouth was slack as she moved around him.

"Henry," she said, as she flexed her muscles around him and stroked her fingers gently through his hair.

"Yeah?"

She shook her head – that was all she had been planning to say. He seemed to get it, giving her a smile that warmed her insides.

Elizabeth could feel her need starting to build, but the way they were moving wasn't quite enough to allow her to tip over the edge. She groaned when Henry's hips jerked up to meet hers as she started to lower herself down once more, and it seemed that his need was growing, too. She dropped her hand from his hair to slide in between them, where she started to stroke him as she raised herself with each movement.

"That's it," he said, his voice low and strangled.

Sweat was breaking out at Henry's hairline and Elizabeth lowered her head to kiss it away, and so she didn't notice as his hand snuck between them to join hers, his fingers brushing lightly against her clit each time she stroked his erection. She gasped at the shock of it, and then moaned as the pressure inside her increased. So close – she was _so_ close.

But not quite there just yet.

Her other hand was wrapped tight around Henry's shoulder and she used it as leverage to increase the speed of their thrusts slightly. Beneath her, Henry was tense, the cords of his muscles practically vibrating beneath his skin as he neared his peak. Elizabeth drew her head back slightly to watch him better; she always loved to see him come undone around her – because of her.

The arm he had around her back clenched suddenly and he went stock still for several seconds as he came, a quiet moan escaping the back of his throat. Elizabeth smiled at the look of bliss on his face. Then a few seconds later, his fingers started to move more insistently against her clit – still slow and unhurried, but more precise and purposeful now. Her muscles clenching around him, she could do nothing but cling on tight to his shoulder as her orgasm built steadily, the slow build making her desperate but feeling so damn good she could only go along with it.

Then the pressure broke and she felt the pleasure rippling through her, not a white heat like it so often was, but a warm rolling wave of sensation that slid over her gradually, wrapping her up in sensation and lingering for a while. She didn't make a sound, didn't think she _had_ a sound, and it was several more long seconds before the feeling started to ebb away as slowly as it had arrived.

Elizabeth let her head drop to Henry's shoulder and slumped against his chest. "Mmnpfh."

His arms wrapped around her to hold her secure, his breath disturbing her hair as he sighed in contentment. "Yeah. Okay, maestro, you've earned your title."

Her reply was slightly drowsy as she came down from her orgasm. "After that I think I'm willing to share the title."

"I'll go for that."

"And for the record, this Christmas party is so much better than the one last night."

Henry squeezed her tighter. "Yeah. Best, most exclusive guest list ever."

She snuggled into him, seeking his warmth as her skin started to cool. "This is how to start the holidays off right."

Henry hummed in agreement and kissed the top of her head, his breaths long and slow and his body warm and relaxed. Elizabeth settled in to stay for a while.

In the background, the piano that played through the stereo began a new piece, as if in reminder of the fact that there were still conversations to be had and unexpected decisions yet to be made, but for now Elizabeth was content to sit with Henry at the piano and watch as the Christmas lights glimmered around them, and to enjoy a rare moment of peace.


End file.
